


Fuck Botany: Solo Study

by threeplusfire



Category: Hat Films - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, jerking off in public bathrooms, teacher student fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: Alex Smith entertains some inappropriate thoughts about his Botany professor. A sequel to Ghostofgatsby's Fuck Botany.





	Fuck Botany: Solo Study

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fuck Botany](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086098) by [ghostofgatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby). 



> Too hilarious not to take up Ghost on the offer to write a sequel. Shameless smut, honoring the long history of getting off in dirty university bathrooms.

Jittery with nerves, Smith slipped out the door. His shoes squeaked loudly on the dingy linoleum of the hall. The sound of the heavy door thumping shut behind him made him jump. He felt flushed, the knowledge of what he’d just done written like a brand on his face. In his jeans as well - Smith was still half hard. He clutched his bag awkwardly in front of his crotch. There was no one else around, and Smith was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could act normally in the moment, with his head still spinning. 

The floor appeared just as deserted as it had half an hour earlier. The other office doors were all closed, their frosted windows dark. Smith took a deep breath, and walked swiftly towards the bathroom towards the end of the hall. The overhead lights flickered uncertainly, and the swinging door squealed on its hinges. The bathroom exuded a faint miasma, grimy and empty. Dust caked the olive green tiles along the wall, and the mirror over the sink was streaked. The place didn’t often see a janitor, Smith thought. He would have imagined a bathroom for faculty offices would be nicer, but apparently not. It was just as dingy as the bathrooms in all the science buildings.

He strode past the urinals with the lingering smell of piss to the stalls. The handicapped stall at the end of the row had multiple hooks on the back of the door. Smith hung his backpack up, and his hoodie as well, yanking it off with hasty motions. He leaned back against the wall and took a deep, shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite believe he’d done what he’d just done. A giddy laugh threatened to burst out of him, and Smith covered his mouth with one hand. Shocked with himself, he stared at the stall wall curiously free of graffiti. 

“Fuuuuck,” Smith sighed. Part of him wanted to call Trott immediately. But Trott was in a lab until 8pm, and probably would be annoyed if his phone kept going off. Better to wait until later. Maybe he wouldn’t still be shaking at his audacity. Maybe he wouldn’t still be horny as hell. Maybe he wouldn’t just blab out  _ I blew my professor so he’d change my grade _ .

He thought about Professor Sips’ sly grin, the way he stared openly at Smith. The warmth of his hand on Smith’s shoulder, the solidity of it. Smith wondered what it would feel like to have Sips’ hands on his hips, the weight of him pressing him down. If Sips was willing to let him get on his knees during office hours, how much more was he willing to do? Smith had never seriously entertained the whole teacher student fantasy before now. But it was incredibly compelling now that he’d already blown his professor.

Groaning, Smith pressed his hand against the bulge in his jeans. His mouth still tasted ever so slightly of the latex from the condom, and he imagined the sensation of Sips’ cock in his mouth again. It was pleasantly thick, enough to choke on while he worked it with his mouth. His fingers fumbled with his belt, opening the buckle and the zipper of his jeans with shaking hands. The whole situation turned him on unreasonably. It was wrong, and significantly fucked up to blow his professor in exchange for a grade. But Smith knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat, without a doubt. He wanted it.

Smith didn’t know if he wanted to try to make it last, or if he should just hurry up because he was in a public bathroom after all. There wasn’t anyone, it seemed, but some random student could wander in. Even his professor. The thought spiked through him, and Smith imagined Sips pushing him up against the wall. His cock twitched, stiffening. He stroked it a few times, and licked his hand, spitting into it. It didn’t feel like quite enough, but it would do to start. Smith pressed his thumb against the head, brushing over the slit as he squeezed himself. The first drops of precome dripped out, and Smith moaned. The sound echoed in the bathroom, louder than he expected it to be.

Smith leaned his head back against the wall, the tiles clammy through his shirt. Eyes closed, he imagined Sips’ hands moving on him. Smith ran through thoughts of Sips leaning in, whispering in his ear about what a good, pretty boy he was. How Sips’ breath would tickle his ear, make him shiver, and how Sips would kiss the shivers down his neck. Smith desperately wanted to feel that mouth on his skin. He imagined the press of lips, the scrape of teeth and tongue against his jaw. 

His thoughts soared incoherently, and Smith quickened his strokes. His cock dripped, his skin slick and hot. The edge of his zipper bit into bare skin. He pushed the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, whimpering around them and trying to muffle the sounds he couldn’t help making. Smith imagined Sips’ fingers pushing on his tongue and filling his mouth while Sips jerked him off. The thought sent him over the edge, pleasure making him curl over and into himself. Smith squeezed his eyes shut, choking on a sob. Come spilled over his fingers, dripping and spattering the floor between his sneakers. 

For a long moment Smith stayed bent over, his tailbone digging into the grab bar along the wall. He kept his eyes closed, feeling safe in the darkness behind his eyelids. The pleasure of his fantasy ebbed, and Smith felt a twinge when his fingers brushed over the overstimulated skin as he tried to put his clothes back in order. Blinking against the light, Smith straightened up with a low groan. It took several more deep breaths before he felt steady enough to grab toilet paper to wipe his hands, and regretfully, his shoes.

The bathroom was mercifully, eerily silent. Smith washed his hands, the cold water smelling faintly of chlorine and iron. He was thirsty, but not enough to drink from the taps in here. Soaping his hands, he found himself wondering how many other people had jerked off in these stalls, how many other teacher student fantasies resulted in semen splashed on the floor or on the seats of these toilets. Smith made a mental note never to sit down in here.

His footsteps echoed loudly in the stairwell as he clomped down the down stairs. His head felt clearer, but Smith still felt a bit giddy. He burst out the exit door into the crisp, chilly autumn air. Zipping up his hoodie, Smith dug his phone out of his backpack. He fired off a text to Trott before he unlocked his bike. 

_ good news about plant hell, drinks after lab? _

There was enough time for him to ride down to the little grocery store on his way home. He had the feeling they’d need some beers for this conversation, and Trott was always hungry after lab. His phone buzzed with a confirmation from Trott, and Smith grinned into the cold breeze. Maybe the semester wasn’t going to be such a disaster.


End file.
